Relatively Speaking

Another trip to the Psychiatric ER and I’d been obsessing, and struggling to get my appearance just so-making up for the past week of sloth. I wondered if cancer patients and/or diabetics have an ER patient hierarchy. I wonder if they too feel at fault for being ill or look around thinking along the lines of their neuroses somehow trumping an other’s psychoses because it’s hidden behind a nice new haircut and overpriced Mac lip gloss. I don’t know anyone close enough to ask if these thoughts are mine alone. I wonder often just how close is close when mental illness presents itself. I’ve been shamed, bullied and abandoned by some of the closest friends I’ve had since my last MDE began in October. To that end, some of my dearest friends have come together to support me in ways I didn’t know they could. Needless to say I have been taking inventory of my circle and cut my losses all of them in one fell swoop.

As I looked around the crisis center at fragile, shaken and battered women; some disheveled and notably filled with embarrassment, shame and fear, I couldn’t help but feel like we…us, those here for help and healing, maybe we are the only normal people. Knowing that our pain has a root: a person an experience, a loss, really makes you step outside of societal norms and ask your Self, “Is it normal for one person event to be more traumatic for some than for others and isn’t this sensitivity, fragility-part of what makes them who they are and not necessarily indicative of what they have?” Aren’t we all a product of intricately woven patterns of behavioral responses shaped by our own individual experiences? Where are the meanies, why aren’t they here talking to someone. Laughs. (Yes, I’ve been doing that again lately, loud and heartily-I am learning to laugh again.)

“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did,
but people will never forget how you made them feel.”-
Maya Angelou
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  1. I've been thinking about you friend. Glad to read that you still have some laughs in you! ((Hugs))

  2. I agree with you…maybe it is those of us who feel and understand what we are feeling who are normal. Why cover up that which makes us human. Why separate ourselves based on how we react and deal with life experiences.

    My son is awfully sensitive…very in touch with his feelings and like me it doesn't take much to make him cry. My goal as a mother is never to teach him that this sensitivity is something wrong…it is him.

    The meanies are so messed up they cannot feel outside of hurting others. That, in my eyes, is the worst type of mental disease. It is so inhumane…so unhuman.

    Laugh…because as long as you are alive you have life…and there is no limit to what you can do with it.

  3. You make me think and feel and stretch my imagination further than usually comfortable.

    I'm glad you're starting to laugh again. Best medicine and all that…

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